


Beer, Lips, Sky Blue Eyes And Sexy Eyebrows

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunk sexy Daniel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beer, Lips, Sky Blue Eyes And Sexy Eyebrows

**Beer, Lips, Sky Blue Eyes And Sexy Eyebrows by Sideburns**

 

Ya know, one beer can go to his head. Just one. After all these years and still -- one beer. He's a cute drunk too. Well, that's not a precise statement. He **can** be cute. Or -- depressed. I've seen that a couple of times. The depressed drunk Daniel. Oooh, alliteration. Depressed. Drunk. Daniel. Say that three times real fast. I dare you.

I didn't like the first time I saw the depressed drunk Daniel. Nope, not at all.

Hathor.

"Nearly destroyed the world, Jacky," he said softly from his bar stool. And yeah, he called me **Jacky**.

When he first spoke, his words were as clear as a bell, no slurring and I didn't realize he was drunk. Then he lifted his head from his steadfast gaze at the beer in front of him and I noticed the eyes. Sky blue, like always, but even with his glasses on, he couldn't focus.

"Yep, Jack. **Again**. How many times you gonna let me do that before you kick my butt off SG1?" He leaned forward and put his finger to his lips as he said, "Ssh, don't tell anyone, 'kay? But," I watched him look right, then left, "Hathor, well, I was most definitely **not** under her spell when she took my DNA, you know?" Then he giggled. "Don't recommend it, Jacky boy. No sir. But what she did to you was way worse." He waved a hand expressively. "Way worse. My fault. You **should** kick my butt out."

No, didn't like that night one bit. Had no idea about Hathor either. Had a little talk with Frasier about that one. You don't keep that kind of medical secret from the commanding officer, you know? Well, now -- she knows.

A couple of times, the whole team saw the cute drunk. Get-togethers at my place, typical wind down after a tough mission, like right now. Here we are, everyone but Teal'c imbibing.

Daniel just giggled and it's all together possible that Teal'c is about to shit a brick. His eyes are huge and I'm positive they're gonna bug out. Then he looks at me. "O'Neill? What was that -- sound?"

"Oh. Um. That was a -- giggle."

"DanielJackson giggled?"

"Apparently."

Sam had to stuff one of my couch pillows down her throat to keep from laughing.

"O'Neill, he has had one and one half of your beers, correct?"

"Correct."

"You have had four. Major Carter has had four. You have not giggled."

Sam leaned across the couch and over Daniel's body and said to Teal'c, "Military personnel do **not** giggle while under the influence." Then she hiccupped. Daniel thought that was **very** funny and he giggled again. I reached over Teal'c's body and grabbed the beer out of Daniel's hand.

"No more for you, Danny boy."

He pursed his lips and watched the bottle as I moved it to my right and set it on the end table. His pursed lips were -- cute. Sam caught it and pointed. "Colonel, Daniel is pouting. Isn't that cute?"

Oh yeah. Real cute. Daniel's lips -- like that.

"I am **not** pouting. I'm -- thinking. Just thinking." He turned to Teal'c and said, "I am not pouting, am I, Teal'c?"

By the way? Don't ask why all four of us are sitting together on one couch. Just don't ask that.

"What is pouting, DanielJackson?"

Sam waved a hand in front of Daniel's face. " **THAT** is pouting. See? He's upset that Jack took his beer away and he's pouting."

"Ah. I see."

At that point, Teal'c raised an eyebrow. He does that **real** well. Daniel watched it arch, then he put his finger on it. "Okay, always wanted to ask. How the fuck do you do that? If I could do that, say when Jack is being a prick? I could shut him the fuck up. Would you show me how?"

Did I mention that a cute drunk Daniel also cusses a blue streak? He does. The **only** time I have **ever** heard him say **fuck** is when drunk -- cute drunk. God damn it, but it's sexy.

"I do not believe that I can show you that, DanielJackson. But I have found that when you peer at O'Neill over the rim of your glasses? He shuts the fuck up."

I have **got** to teach that Jaffa not to mimic.

"Teal'c, you should know," Sam said helpfully, "Fuck is very bad word. I wouldn't go around repeating it."

Damn, but that eyebrow went even higher. And Daniel watched it, amazed and hypnotized. "Look, Sam, look how high it can go. Man, I need to learn that." Then he turned to her and said, "Okay, how's this?"

He was arching his right eyebrow.

"Oooh, Daniel, that's -- um, wow, that's," she sighed dreamily. "That is -- very sexy, Daniel."

He frowned. "Sam, I am **not** going for sexy here. I'm going for, for, superior. I'm going for, **Jack, don't mess with me** , I'm going for, for--"

"Too bad, cause it's only sexy," Sam said just before she swallowed the rest of her fifth beer.

"Well, fuck."

"DanielJackson, according to Major Carter, that is a bad word. You should refrain from using it."

"God damn it, Sam! Would you look at that? He's doing it again and don't you feel foolish, just seeing that eyebrow? Like, maybe, we should wash my mouth out with soap for saying fuck?"

Sam nodded. "It is impressive, but on you, just sexy. Personally, as a woman, I find sexy superior to --superior."

"Maybe, but Jack won't. He'll just laugh."

I should have shut the fuck up at that point, but I didn't.

"Try me, Daniel. Let me see that eyebrow of yours."

He stubbornly shook his head. "No way. You'll just laugh."

"No I won't. I promise. Please?" Damn, I'm even wheedling.

"Okay, but if you laugh, I'm joining SG-12." He turned and let his right eyebrow arch.

Jesus. It **was** sexy. I mean, Sam could have started a strip tease right then and I **still** would have preferred seeing that sexy eyebrow.

"That is quite impressive, DanielJackson. It would shut me the fuck up."

Sam shook her finger at Teal'c. "Teal'c, didn't I just say not to say that word?"

Daniel wasn't listening, he was still arching. "Well, Jack? Sexy or superior?"

"Um, er, yes, well--"

I'm not a soldier for nothing. Strategic retreat.

"Okay, I'm thinking bed time for a couple of folks. Sam, you can have the spare bedroom. Daniel, the couch. Teal'c, the **other** couch."

"That is not necessary, O'Neill. I am able to drive. I will take both Major Carter and DanielJackson home."

I looked at Teal'c and fuck if **my** eyebrow didn't rise.

"Ooh, Sam, look! On Jack, it **is** sexy!"

Sam looked, then snorted. "Not hardly, Daniel." She got up unsteadily and grabbed Teal'c's hand. "Come on, Teal'cy baby, take me home."

Yeah, Sam can be a cute drunk too. Not **as** cute, but cute. Teal'c got up and I said, cleverly, "You take Carter, I'll take care of Daniel. See you Monday, Teal'c. And by the way? Who taught you to drive?"

"DanielJackson."

What a surprise.

Sam handed over her keys and I walked them out, stood in the driveway as Teal'c backed out and watched until they disappeared around the corner. Then I walked back inside to my cute drunk with the sexy eyebrow.

Who was scarfing down his stolen beer.

"Danny, Danny, Danny. What am I going to do with you?" I said, as I plucked the beer out of his hand.

"For one, you could let me have my beer. I'm a big boy now, Jack." It would almost have convinced me that he was sober -- if he hadn't hiccuped again. Then giggled.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, big boy, time to get you to bed."

He let that one eyebrow rise and I sighed. "Danny, please don't do that. I refuse to be responsible for my actions if you keep doing that."

He did it again. With the left eyebrow.

"Well fuck."

"We could," Daniel suggested helpfully as he leaned into me, eyes dark and inviting. "If we can't say the word -- we could do it."

"Daniel, you're three sheets to the wind and trust me, you'll regret this tomorrow."

He shook his head wildly. "Nuh-uh. Won't regret. Not ever." He pointed at me, then rested his finger against my chest. " **You'll** regret it, but I won't. Never, ever."

I take his finger, then his whole hand and say, "I'd never regret it, Danny. But you won't remember it, and **that** I'd regret."

Daniel pulled away from me and with a nice dart and dodge move, ran down my hall and into the bathroom. The next thing I heard was the door slamming -- and locking. Looking heavenward and praying for the patience of a saint -- any saint, I walked to the door and knocked politely.

"Now, Daniel, I want you to open this door right now. You're drunk and could hurt yourself."

My answer? The shower was turned on.

"Daniel? **DANIEL? OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!** "

My answer? The loudest squeal I've ever heard. I swear, the sound turned my blood cold. Without thinking, I shoved my shoulder into the door and -- bounced back against the wall.

"Ouch. Okay, major ouch."

I rubbed my sore arm, regarded the enemy door through narrowed slits, then gave it a good, swift kick. It broke open and I stepped inside.

"Daniel? Are you all right?"

He was standing in the shower -- naked -- and blue.

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud." I moved quickly and turned off the ice cold water, then yanked him out unceremoniously.

"Are you nutso? What the fuck are you trying to do? Catch pneumonia?" I wrap him up in a towel and start rubbing vigorously. As I did, Daniel started talking, but between his teeth chattering and my rubbing, well, I really had to strain to understand.

"So-o-b-b-er, n-n--o-w, com--p-p-lete-l-ly s-o-o-b-b-er."

Okay, I think I got that. He's completely -- sober.

"S-t-t-i-l-l-l wa-a-n-t-t t-tt-o f-fu-cc-k."

Yep, got that one too. Big time. I turn him around in my arms so that I can see his eyes and they're focused -- solidly. On me. Well hot damn.

Daniel starts to lean in then and I tilt my head and narrow my eyes--then Daniel lets that one eyebrow rise--

"You damn well better be sober, Danny boy, cause that's it, you're done for--"

I meet him halfway.

Our lips meet all the way. So do our tongues. And hands. And -- well -- everything else.

Sublime. Awesome. Damn, Daniel's cute when he's sober and stuck to me like glue.

Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to slide my hand down his back to his ass? Longer than I'd care to admit, so you're not getting it out of me.

He feels just as good as I knew he would. Taut, quivering muscles, slick, soft skin, and round where he most definitely should be round. When I tease him with one finger, the moan he releases into my mouth is more than I can handle. We're on the floor and I'm on top, kind of, and we keep butting heads cause we're trying to kiss the same spots on each other. Daniel starts to laugh and I rear up and raise **my** right eyebrow.

"Somethin' funny, Dannyboy?"

"Yeah, you -- with that ridiculous eyebrow. And you're about to screw around with your archeologist. You gonna be okay with that?"

"I thought you thought my eyebrow was sexy?" Yeah, I'm whining.

"Ye-ah, when I was drunk. I'm sober now, so cut it out."

I have to grin. Then the other part of what he said hits me. "This won't bother me, Danny. Not one bit. In fact, I plan on spending the next twenty or so years screwing around with my archeologist. So there."

"I **am** your only archeologist, right?"

"Oh yeah."

"Good. Hate to have to beat the shit out of you, Flyboy."

"As if."

He flips me over and I have no intention of telling anyone that -- ever. Damn, he's strong. I think we're about to fuck. Sweet.

 

  
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This story archived at <http://www.thealphagate.com/viewstory.php?sid=190>


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